


Red 40

by Not_You



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Established Relationship, Hentai, M/M, Philanthropy, Porn Watching, This is romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, snake tries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: It's Valentine's Day, so Snake makes an effort.





	Red 40

Given the kind of places Philanthropy has had to operate from, their current base is actually cozy. It's a little log cabin in the middle of Absolutely Nowhere, Alaska, and the walls are thick enough to keep out the worst of the cold, even if they do have to tend the wood stove all the time. Right now it's blasting heat in all directions, but Otacon still yelps at the wash of icy air that swirls in with Snake. There's a lot of it, because he's carrying one of the huge dryboxes that hold everything they own, these days.

"Is it me," Otacon asks, as Snake sets the box down and stamps the snow off of his boots, "or has it gotten even colder?"

"For once it's not just you," Snake says, struggling out of all the layers even he has to wear to drive a snowmobile in this weather, shaking snow off of them piece by piece. "The temperature has been dropping like a stone since morning, it'll be fifty below soon."

Otacon grimaces. "Do we have enough wood for that?"

"Probably," Snake says, "and it's not like we're going to stay here long enough to be burning green spruce, no matter how cold it gets." He grins at Otacon, padding over in stocking feet to wrap his arms around him, nuzzling his cold nose in behind his ear with a contented sigh. "Missed you," he murmurs, and Otacon can feel himself blushing, which only makes him feel more ridiculous because it isn't as if he and Snake haven't been sleeping together for months, now.

"Missed you too," he says, because it's true. 

The life they're leading, he can't help but worry about Snake every time the guy is out of his sight. That fear is probably what drove him to admit to anything in the first place, and now he turns in his chair to kiss Snake, wrapping his arms around his neck. Snake makes the deep, purring sort of noise that Otacon feels extremely privileged to hear as often as he does, and kisses his forehead before going back over to the box, wiping the snow melt off of it and unpacking dry goods, canned fruit, the cables Otacon needs, more ammo... it's all the usual things, except not enough of them. 

Otacon has become intimately familiar with how much fits into each of their various dryboxes, and there's a good cubic foot or so unaccounted for. Snake hates the way wasted space makes the load slop around, and packs wall-to-wall whenever possible, and Otacon is about to ask about it when Snake hauls out a twelve-pack of soda. Snake regards soft drinks that aren't coffee or juice as a waste of effort, and he's probably right, which is what Otacon always tells himself when the cravings really set in, and yet here he is with twelve cans of Mountain Dew. The Code Red flavor, of all fucking things.

"Snake?"

"Happy Valentine's Day," Snake says, setting a few VHS tapes on top of the twelve pack. "I got you a rack of Code Red and some cartoon porn."

"...Wait, it's Valentine’s Day? Shit." Snake's gift may be about as romantic as the DMV, but he got _something_.

"I didn't expect you to remember," Snake says, "it's all right."

"Yeah, but I didn't even make you a card," Otacon says, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry, I guess I just wouldn't have thought you even did this kind of thing."

Snake shrugs. "I felt like getting you something. It's not like it's nice or anything." He hauls his feet out of his boots, setting them neatly by the door and then slithering his way out of his enormous insulated bib overalls. The process is always fun to watch, and the black thermals Snake is left in at the end suit him. He glances up and catches Otacon's eye, grinning at him. "Come on," he says, nodding toward the couch, "take a break."

Otacon really should be putting those new cables to good use, but an hour or so won't make any difference. He brings his gifts to the couch and cracks open a can of chemical-infused death-syrup, still cold from transit, and curls up against the cushions while Snake sets up the old VCR that belongs to the place. It's a little creaky, but it works, and Otacon examines his options.

"One of them is some of that tentacle shit," Snake says, settling on the couch and pulling Otacon into his lap as he reads the back of each one, "one of them is gay, and the third one is something about maids? I think some of them have dicks, I'm not sure."

"Maids, huh?"

Snake shrugs. "The outfit's cute," he says, and as always, Otacon envies him his relative shamelessness.

"You're not allowed to laugh if the tentacle porn gives me a boner," Otacon says, and Snake grins.

"Would I do such a thing, sweetheart?" he croons, and Otacon lightly slaps his shoulder.

"Yes you would," he says, "and shut up." He gets to his feet and puts the tentacle porn into the VCR, making sure the volume is at a good level before settling into Snake's lap to watch the trailers and savor the rush of caffeine and high fructose corn syrup. "Thank you, Snake," he says softly, and Snake kisses the back of his neck.

"You're welcome."

"I still feel like I should get you something," Otacon mutters, and Snake chuckles.

"You can pay me back in sexual favors if it's really bothering you," he says, and Otacon can feel himself blushing again.

"Okay," he says softly, and rests his head on Snake's shoulder as the title card for Demon Lust comes up over the kind of cheesy synth music hentai favors.


End file.
